


Read All About It

by DeborahShay



Category: Kill Your Darlings (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeborahShay/pseuds/DeborahShay
Summary: "In order for change to happen, people need to be able to be honest about who they are, even if society doesn't agree with it. Poetry, if it's honest, at its very core thrives off of emotion and life experience; sadness, love, loss."





	Read All About It

_You’ve got a heart as loud as lions,_

_So why let your voice be tamed?_

_Maybe we’re a little different,_

_There’s no need to be ashamed_

“The true, uncensored version of one’s self,” Lucien recited the words slowly, as if mulling them over, as smoke drifted from between his lips. They both lay on the mattress in the corner of the blonde’s room, surrounded by an abundance of books from Yeats to Whitman. Both were inebriated, an empty bottle of Chianti being the only evidence from their trysts.

            “Of course,” Allen started, eyeing the boy next to him. Lucien was in his own little world, that Wonderland of a mind at work. “In order for change to happen, people need to be able to be honest about who they are, even if society doesn’t agree with it. Poetry, if it’s honest, at its very core thrives off of emotion and life experience; sadness, love, loss.”

            “Being honest with yourself, or society for that matter, isn’t always easy,” Lucien’s words came out mumbled as he put his cigarette out on the crumpled papers on the floor next to him.

            Allen’s words escaped from his lips before he could stop himself. “Maybe that’s why you can’t get yourself to write.”

            His words earned Lucien’s full attention, making the blonde finally turn and make eye contact with Allen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, Lu. I just meant that if you aren’t able to be honest with yourself, and open about who you are or what you’ve been through, it can’t be put down on paper,” Allen sat up, his back against the wall and knees pulled to his chest. “That’s what poetry is: being exposed, raw. It isn’t something you can force.”

            “You don’t know anything about me,” Lucien gritted out, reacting like a cornered animal. “You want experience? You want honesty? I have novels worth of it. I have more honesty than you can handle.”

            “Good, let that out,” Allen challenged, knowing the moment he had right now with Lucien wasn’t soon going to happen again. The other boy’s wall was hardly ever down.

`           “When you’ve been the subject of attention and desire for years from a man fifteen years older than you, you learn a few things. You learn how to bury shame and the sick feeling in your gut every time you think somebody knows,” Lucien’s breathing hitched, more emotion than Allen had ever seen from him on the blonde’s face. “He’ll never leave me alone. He follows me everywhere I go, just to be close to his precious ‘Lu Lu’.”

            “That’s when you stand up to him; tell him to leave you the fuck alone, Lu!” Anger rose in the pit of Allen’s stomach.

            “You don’t think I’ve tried?” Lucien yelled, tears loitering his cheeks. “He’s a fucking fruit, a goddamn queer, and he’s obsessed with me.”

            “Why is that such a problem for you?” Allen’s voice came out meek, earning a questioning look from Lucien.

            “Because it’s something I’m fucking not,” Lucien’s tone was defensive, a disgusted look on his face. Allen’s stomach dropped at the expression.

            Allen’s mind suddenly flashed to all of the intimate times between the two: all the times they’d fallen asleep together, stomach-to-back under the same blanket, all the times Lucien would lay his head on Allen’s chest, raving about the fascists in literature. His chest physically hurt. Lucien’s face softened as he saw Allen’s demeanor change, but no words comforted him. And it was at that moment, that just maybe, he knew he should’ve listened to Bill in the beginning. _You are not in Wonderland._

Allen turned to Lucien. “I need you to tell me you don’t want this.”

            “What?” Lucien’s face turned to one of confusion. “Ginsy, I don’t—“

            “Tell me you don’t want this,” Driven, Allen took Lucien’s face between his hands and covered the blonde’s mouth with his own.

            Allen felt Lucien stiffen under the surprise invasion, but a couple of seconds passed and he was kissing back with fervor, months of built-up want crashing through. Lucien’s slender fingers tangled in Allen’s curls before he threw a leg over the Jew’s legs, straddling his lap. Allen held Lucien’s hips in a vice grip, rutting against him. Small, broken moans escaped Lucien’s lips, and to Allen it sounded like a goddamn symphony, one he’d never get tired of.

            “You’re such a fucking liar,” Allan panted out between open-mouthed kisses.

            He felt Lucien grin against his lips, chuckling. “I never said I didn’t.”

            Allen picked Lucien up around his waist, throwing him back onto the mattress. Taking both hands, he forced them above the blonde’s head, pinning him to the bed by his wrists. The way Lucien looked up at him knocked the breath from his lungs; there was more innocence in his expression than Allen had ever seen. Between the booze and the reefer, the girls and the parties, Allen had never seen this side of Lucien. He was selfish for this, because right then and there he swore this was only his to see; not David’s, not Jack’s, _his_.

            “Ginsy,” Lucien whined, sucking a plump bottom lip between his teeth.

            “Yeah,” Allen breathed out, taking both of Lucien’s wrists in one hand, and using the other to unbutton the blonde’s pants.

            Slipping his hand in, he gripped Lucien’s cock, already hard and leaking precum. Broken, breathy moans were his cue to go further, stroking him in the confines of the fabric separating them. Allen took this chance to kiss down Lucien’s pale, ivory skin, sucking purple bruises from his jawline all the way down to his collarbone. If Lucien asked, he could say it was the heat of the moment; he hadn’t meant to. But if it sent a message to David, too, then oh well.

            Lucien came, panting heavy breaths into Allen’s neck and muffling the loud cries. Allen gently kissed him once more before rolling over to his side, watching the blonde’s reactions carefully. With Allen, hope never outweighed expectations. He knew there was a good chance Lucien would panic and leave, avoid him for weeks. But this never came to pass.

            Lucien opened his eyes after grounding himself, coming down from the high, and looked over at Allen. Nothing but contentment laced his features as one of his hands gently rested on Allen’s chest, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Lucien chewed his lip nervously as he trailed lower down. This time, he took the chance to straddle Allen, slowly kissing along his jawline.

            Allen shivered as he felt Lucien’s breath close to his ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “And your very flesh shall be a great poem.”*

**Author's Note:**

> *quote by Walt Whitman


End file.
